The torpor consequent upon the disintegrating shock of this meeting began to leave Mrs. Waddington.
"I can explain!" she cried.
"You will have every opportunity of doing so at the station-house," said the policeman. "In your own interests I should advise you until then to say as little as possible. For I must warn you that in pursuance of my duty I shall take a memorandum of any statement which you may make. See, I have my note-book and pencil here in readiness."
"I was doing no harm."
"That, is for the judge to decide. I need scarcely point out that your presence in this apartment is, to say the least, equivocal. You came in through a window,—an action which constitutes breaking and entering, and, furthermore, I find you in the act of purloining the property of the owner of the apartment,—to wit, soup. I am afraid I must ask you to accompany me."
Mrs. Waddington started to clasp her hands in a desperate appeal: and, doing so, was aware that some obstacle prevented this gesture.
It was suddenly borne in upon her that she was still holding the pepper-pot. And suddenly a thought came like a full-blown rose, flushing her brow.
"Ha!" she exclaimed.
"I beg your pardon?" said the policeman.
Everything in this world, every little experience which we undergo or even merely read about, is intended, philosophers tell us, to teach us something, to help to equip us for the battle of life. It was not, according to this theory, mere accident, therefore, which a few days before had caused Mrs. Waddington to read and sub-consciously memorise the report that had appeared in the evening paper to which she subscribed of a burglary at the residence of a certain leading citizen of West Orange, New Jersey. The story had been sent to help her.